Die For You
by AniRay
Summary: Pote's words follow Teresa like a ghost and her fears try to pull her into the dark. Post 3x08 oneshot


_He will die for you..._

The words echoed in her mind. They were everything and nothing that she wanted to hear. James was loyal- she had seen that from the beginning. And Teresa knew that he would always protect her- protect their business. But at what cost? She had already had someone die for her. It wasn't as romantic as the movies made it seem. In fact it was terrible.

Her mind sent her back to that car- Guero's head in her lap as she realized he wasn't breathing. The panic and shock when Pote told her he was gone. She hadn't wanted that to happen. And she didn't want to relive anything like it again. Especially not with James.

Guero had been her first real love. She had seen a future with him. Imagined growing old together, having a family. She wanted that life with him- cartel or no. But fate had been cruel. It had allowed her to taste love only to lose it. Then it had dropped her into a warzone where her only options were to fight or die. And then James came into the picture. Cold, distant, unconcerned with her well-being. At least that's what she thought. Then he had shown her another side. Not softer- soft got you killed- but different. He had tried to save her in so many ways so many different times. And just like before fate came to destroy the peace she was trying to find.

She didn't regret finding Guero again. She didn't regret one moment of the time they shared together after his return from death. But she had been learning who she was without him. She had been finding who she could be on her own. Because she had to. And she had liked the person she saw when she looked in the mirror. Not a clueless morra. Not a fugitive on the run from a monster. A businesswoman, a strategist. A survivor.

And maybe she liked the way it felt to have a man look at her the way James sometimes did. Maybe she liked being able to look back without betraying the man she loved. Because even in the three months that she had known him, James had snuck into her heart. He was in her blood before she knew it. Teresa had watched him during a hit. He was precise, methodical, and he was silent. The moves he made were the definition of stealth. And his entrance into her affections had been the same way. It had been so subtle- so unassuming- that she hadn't noticed until it was too late. And if the way he never held eye contact for too long was any indication- it had surprised him too.

As she walked into James' compound her mind went to Bolivia. That entire trip had terrified her. Not for the obvious reasons, though. She should have been worried about El Santo. She should have been concerned about La Capitana and her soldiers. Or maybe about how much Camila wanted Guero dead. But that wasn't what scared her. None of it was. The thing that terrified her was just how much James meant to her. The way her lips twitched up into a smile at his annoyance at Guero. It was silly- but she knew it was out of loyalty to her. She could see it on his face- Guero had hurt her and James hated him for it. Then the way her heart tripped a little faster at the intensity in his eyes when he told her she would make it out of Bolivia. She had been scared out of her mind and so sure the cocaine in her system would kill her. But hearing him tell her she would make it- seeing how he would not accept any other outcome- it had made her feel safe. When they had gone to the hotel and he walked out of that door she had known that what she felt for him was so much deeper than a trust that he would keep her alive. It was more than a working relationship. Because even on Guero's most dangerous runs she had never been so terrified of a door closing.

James was sitting in the living room with KellyAnn. She wanted to go to him, rest her head on his shoulder, let him wrap his arms around her. But she couldn't-not yet. It felt like it would be too much for both of them right now. Until an image from her worst nightmares flashed before her eyes. He was still on the couch, still talking with KellyAnn. Then he was on the ground. The window was broken-glass shattered and littering the carpet. KellyAnn was screaming. Charger was running into the room, gun drawn. But Teresa could only see James- on the floor, blood spilling from the hole in his throat and seeping into the carpet underneath his head. The red blending with the white of the carpet then overpowering it until it looked more black than red.

 _He will die for you..._

"Teresa."

His voice brought her out of her trance. She blinked to clear the image away. Blinked again to focus on what he was saying. But he wasn't saying anything. He was watching her- concern etched into the tension in his muscles. The silent 'Are you alright?' was clear in his eyes. And she wanted to say yes. She wanted to brush aside her fear and the images it brought. But she couldn't.

Teresa heard KellyAnn mumble something about dinner before she got up and left the room. Part of her wanted to call the other woman back. But she couldn't let KellyAnn see her this way. Not when she was so vulnerable. She watched James as he watched her- waiting for her to talk or sit or anything. But what could she say? And what was there to do. There was no true threat- only her mind. So he waited for a while longer. Then he was up and in front of her- his motions quick and jerky. Like he was nervous.

"Did something happen to Lil' T?" Teresa shook her head. She had forgotten about the girl. Her mind so captured by Pote's words- by bloodstained carpet. Guilt started mixing with the fear. But then James was there, his hand cupping her cheek bringing her eyes to meet his. He didn't say anything and she was grateful. Because she wasn't sure her emotions could handle much more.

He pulled her into a soft hug. And as soon as his arms were around her she started shaking. It was too similar. She had lived this moment already- in Bolivia. James' softness, his concern, the warmth of his arms cradling her to his chest. It had all happened. And he had died then too. Her mind knew it had been a vision- a figment of her imagination. But that day still haunted her. Both the things that hadn't happened and the things that did.

James let go of her- worry painted across his features. "Teresa," he whispered, brows furrowing in hurt and confusion. "I'm not going to hurt you. You don't need to be afraid of me." She dropped her gaze to the floor. He took a step back and she caught the way he rubbed his thumb against his fingers. The nervous habit no one else seemed to have picked up on. She let her eyes drift back to his.

She wanted to contradict him- explain that she wasn't afraid _of_ him but _for_ him. But she couldn't. Instead she turned around and went upstairs. She tried to block his closed off expression from her mind. She couldn't think about that. All she could focus on was making sure that her business succeeded and no more of her people died. James and what he meant to her could be dealt with later. Besides, the idea of losing him shouldn't be this terrifying.

Her feet carried her up the stairs- her mind on autopilot. She didn't notice that she wasn't in her own room until she had pulled the covers back on the bed. _His_ bed. A bed she had slept in once yet had been the first place she had been able to rest easy since Sinaloa. She was thrown into the memories of that night. James' hands under her thighs as he carried her into the room. The heat from his body rolling over her as he settled between her legs. Her hands fisting his hair- needing him closer- needing an anchor. The snap of his hips and the corresponding surge of pleasure in her core. The sound of his voice- wrecked, broken- as he whispered her name. The softness of his hair as she ran her fingers through his curls.

The sound of the door opening brought her back to reality. There was no point in turning around. It was his room. No one else would be coming in here. "Did you know, in Bolivia, I saw you die?" He took a step into the room and she heard the door shut a moment later. "After El Santo took me. He gave me something. I had these visions. Two of them." She turned to face him before sitting on the edge of the bed. "In the first one, Guero died. He was trying to protect me. La Capitana's men shot him." She watched the way James tensed at the mention of La Capitana. Or maybe it was Guero. She didn't think about it. "The second one, it surprised me. I was afraid that the same thing would happen as in the last vision. I wanted us to stay together. But you went after one of the soldiers. I went after you." He was suddenly more tense than before. She knew he wanted to come to her. But he didn't. She was glad. "I found you but I was so scared. You calmed me down- told me I was safe because you took care of it. You hugged me. Kissed me." She didn't let herself look at him when she said that. She was already too vulnerable. "Then Guero shot you. You died in my arms."

He took a slow step forward. Then another. He knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. "Since we got back from Mexico I keep having these nightmares." His eyes were trained on his hands, and she wished he would look up. But she understood needing to hide. "We get to the doctor's house. You and Guero are running for the car. And right when I get to you- right before I reach out to pull you to safety- you get hit." His hands tighten their hold on her knees. She lets hers rest over his- reminding him that she's with him. "I try to stop the bleeding but it's too late. You're already gone. Every night since we got back I check your room to make sure you're still breathing." She hadn't known that. She hadn't been sleeping and yet she hadn't been aware of his presence in those late night hours when her mind was too anxious to sleep. He lifts his head to meet her eyes and she can see worry and hurt and loyalty and hope all at once. "I know what you're going through. But you're still here. And I'm still here. I'm not leaving you."

It doesn't take all of the fear away. It doesn't erase the panic she feels when she closes her eyes and sees red. But it's less. Because that has always been how they are. He doesn't fix everything- he just makes it more bearable. And it is. She can breathe through the panic. She can see beyond the fear. And his hand in hers, the solid weight of his existence- it calms her. They can do this. They can be more than two scared people trying not to get hurt again. And she wants to try- with him. She lets her hands cup his face, fingers brushing along his jawline. The vulnerability in her heart is mirrored in his eyes. And that's why she can close the distance between them. That's why she can let herself lean into this kiss. It's why she isn't afraid when he rises up and presses her into his mattress. Because she understands him and he understands her. And they don't have to hide from each other.

So later while the sweat is cooling on their skin. Later when her chest is pressed tight against his. When his eyes are locked on hers and her fingers are tracing patterns along his collarbone- she says it. "I want this every night with you." And when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. When his fingers gently tangled in the ends of her hair. When he pulled her closer even though there was no space left between them- he says it. "Me too."


End file.
